
















Copyright N°__ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




























The Scoundrel 
o/’Militarism 



Scoundrel of Militarism 


By Asenath Carver Coolidg 


e 


Author of 

“The Independence Day Horror at Killsbury” 
“Christmas vs. Fourth of July,” “Prophet of 
Peace,” “Between Two Rebellions,” “Human 
Beings versus Things,” “Cherry Feasts for 
Barbarous Fourths,” “Our Nation’s Altar” and 
many other short stories and poems. 


il They have the right to censure 
•who have the heart to help" 

—WILLIAM PENN 



WORCESTER, MASSACHUSETTS 
1911 



t 


Copyrighted 1911 

Asenath Carver Coolidge 



HUN OCR FOR O'HOLBROOK CO., 
WATCRTOWN, N. V 


(gCI.A2S9442 




JOHN COOLIDGE HAND 

A bra ve looking little lad who I trust will 
never have the heart to take a cent out of 
his toy bank to buy toy pistols or toy cannon, 
or toy bombs, to blow his own or other boys' 
eyes out. I trust he would rather give his 
bottom dollar to help convert the Fourth of 
July barbarian. I also trust that he will 
never indulge in insane eating, drinking, 
smoking or gaming which are as dangerous 
to health, as insane celebrations are to life 




PREFATORT 

No Boy Brigades—No Boy Scouts—No 
Grand Army Regiments—No Military 
Pageants—No burning up of Money — 

No kind of Fireworks—No device of 
the fiends of militarism to inflame young 
minds with the war spirit and lead on to 
conscription—or compulsory man-killing 

ASENATH CARVER COOLIDGE d.ft 

Worcester, Mass. 

May 1911 













f 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 

PART ONE. 

T HE Reverend Thomas Phillips had been 
to call on an Independence Day victim— 
a young boy who had attempted to scare 
his grandmother with his giant firecrack¬ 
er. It exploded in his hand, broke two of his 
fingers and tore his lip fearfully. 

And now he had heard of another victim—a 
beautiful motherless little girl, Lucia Lessing, had 
lost her sight through her brother’s careless han¬ 
dling of a “Superb Boy's Rifle ” which his father 
had given him, “in commemoration,” he said, “of 
young America’s victory over old mother Eng¬ 
land.” 

Little Lucia’s accident touched him more nearly 
than the other, not only because her hurt was not 
the result of her own recklessness but for the rea¬ 
son that she was a member of his Sunday school 
class. Her brother, Robbie, was also a member 
and their father was the superintendent, having 
served in that capacity for several years prior to 
his installation. 

Considering the circumstances it is no wonder 
that Dr. Phillips felt a slight degree of trepida¬ 
tion when he set out to call on Lucia, or that he 

7 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 

inwardly prayed to be able to say the right word 
in the right place to his wealthy and influential 
parishioner and his petted son; but when he ar¬ 
rived he found the situation very different from 
what he expected. Neither her father nor broth¬ 
er were there, but the nurse met him with a regu¬ 
lation smile and talked so cheerfully about the 
matter that he inquired “and so you think she will 
recover her sight eventually do you not?” 

“O no, Doctor, the sight of one eye can never 
be restored, but it is doing very nicely, far better 
than we had any reason to expect. The cavity is 
healing beautifully. The inflammation is subsid¬ 
ing rapidly, very rapidly and she is bearing it so 
sweetly and patiently.” 

“O indeed!” gasped the Doctor; “and her broth¬ 
er! He must be suffering agonies. How will he ev¬ 
er be able to forgive himself?” 

“I don’t know I’m sure,” replied the nurse, with 
a slightly surprised air, as though this phase of 
the question were new to her, “but really he has 
a beautiful disposition, very beautiful indeed. 
He is so manly and generous! The first thing 
he said to her after she came out of her 
fainting fit and he saw what he had done, was; 
‘Don’t cry little sister and I’ll take all my money 
out of my bank and buy you a nice glass eye. I’ll 
have it made so beautiful that nobody can tell it 
from the other.’ And she never has cried since. 
She bears it very bravely like a little angel. Will 

8 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


you step up and see her, Doctor? We don’t allow 
people in general to see her, but you are the fam¬ 
ily minister.” 

Thus bidden, Doctor Phillips followed the 
nurse to the patient’s room. It was veiled in 
darkness; but after a moment he was able to dis¬ 
tinguish the pallid face, one side of which was 
sunken in the pillow and the other nearly cov¬ 
ered with lint and bandages. It was more serious 
than he expected, but she answered him with a 
cheerful voice when he bent over her and asked, 
How she was feeling? 

“Very thankful, Doctor Phillips, very thank¬ 
ful indeed. You know it might have been so 
much worse. Papa says if it had only struck a 
little higher up, near the temple it would have 
killed me instantly.” 

Doctor Phillips could not trust himself to 
speak, but his sympathetic look evidently af¬ 
fected her. She gave a half sob and continued. 

“O I thought it was dreadful at first. It seemed 
to me I could not bear to live and be so disfig¬ 
ured. I wanted to go and live w r ith mama in 
heaven and be born over again; but papa said he 
wanted me to stay here so I could take care of 
him and sympathize with him in his old age when 
he too would be blind and feeble, and he says I 
must be cheerful, so Robbie won’t feel too badly 
about it, for he did not mean to hurt me.” 

“O the selfishness of it!” thought Doctor Phil- 

9 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


lips as an angry flush crossed his face. It re¬ 
minded him of an old brute of a poet or preacher, 
he had forgotten which, who prayed that he 
might have a daughter and that she might be 
born blind, in order that she might be left to him 
to minister to his comfort in his declining years, 
but he curbed his temper and said: 

“It is very kind of you to think of others, in¬ 
stead of yourself, certainly, but perhaps they de¬ 
serve to be blamed. Pray tell me how the acci¬ 
dent happened.” 

“You see papa bought Robbie a splendid new 
gun to celebrate ‘The Fourth’ with. He has al¬ 
ways bought him something to shoot with every 
Fourth ever since he was four years old, and a 
bigger one every year. This year it was a real, 
big, splendid gun, for he is twelve years older 
now. He was dreadful proud of it. He showed 
it to me and pointed at me just for fun. He had 
no idea that it would go off. He was playing 
that I was England.” 

“England! aiming at a fallen foe! Killing our 
own friends instead! How dreadful! What a les¬ 
son !” exclaimed the Doctor. 

The words had been fairly shaken out of him. 
Christ’s precepts were trembling on his lips, but 
Lucia knew them by heart and he did not need 
to repeat them. He hesitated, then added firm- 
]y: 

“Guns are a curse to the world—from the toy 

10 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


pistol all the way up. I must see your father 
and brother and talk to them about the matter. 
There have been so many accidents here of late.” 

“0 how I wish you would,” exclaimed Lucia, 
clasping his hand tightly as he arose to go. “I 
know you are right! You ought to see Robbie’s 
room! It’s a terror and it will be more so than 
ever after this. Please let the nurse show it to 
you.” 

“This is Robbie’s room and this is the gun that 
did the deed,” said the nurse as she opened a door 
in the lower hall, and pointed to a splendid rifle 
on the opposite wall. “It doesn’t look as though 
it were in limbo does it? It has been enthroned 
since yesterday. I heard him fastening up the 
stag’s head before he went off with his fishing 
party.” 

The regulation smile had disappeared and she 
looked like one who had met with a sudden con¬ 
version. 

Dr. Phillips surveyed the room in utter aston¬ 
ishment. It was a perfect arsenal for all sorts of 
small firearms, and the guns were not all of it. 
Powder and shot, blank cartridges and dynamite 
caps with all the paraphernalia and Fourth of 
July implements that had ever been invented, were 
there, intermixed with pictures, songs and stories 
of the bloodiest battles of the world. Then there 
were books and pamphlets explaining the con¬ 
struction of the most elaborate man-killing in- 

11 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


struments of the present time; while on the desk 
lay a well thumbed booklet minutely descriptive 
of the Krag-Jorgensen rifle, which was to be 
(said the nurse), “Robbie’s next Independence 
Day present from his father!” 

Dr. Phillips turned away with a gesture of impa¬ 
tience and went home in a tumult of distressful 
thoughts. As he passed the nursery door he saw 
a sight that would at any other time have filled 
his heart with gladness. His little four year old 
son lay curled up on a cushion at his mother’s 
feet and his baby daughter was being lulled to 
sleep by a soothing song. It was his time for 
the writing of his Sunday sermon and all else was 
to be held in abeyance to that important work. 
He passed on to his study and sat down at his 
desk mechanically. He took up his pen, dipped 
it in ink and held it over the paper; but no ser¬ 
mon dripped from its point. He knew what he 
wanted to say but he could not clothe it in lan¬ 
guage that would be proper or acceptable for a 
sermon. There was a strain of poetry in his 
blood and the impulse was to let it out. It came 
and he read it to himself in a shamed whisper: 

“I hear it! Loud and high—the Infinite disdain 
Blent with the watching angel’s sad refrain. 

I hear it Lord; but cannot speak it now, 

My lips are dumb! The voice is thine! 
f All I can do is, humbly bow 

And bide my time.” 


12 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


“Is it all I can do,” he questioned. He thought 
of his beautiful little girl and boy in the room 
below. He thought of Lucia Lessing and her 
brother—of the injury she had received at his 
hands and of his terrible arsenal, the fear of which 
might prevent her from getting well and strong. 
Then it occurred to him that the arsenal was di¬ 
rectly under Lucia’s room. What if it should 
take fire with all those explosives? Besides Rob¬ 
bie smoked cigarettes and there had just been a 
terrible accident at Fort Totten caused by a sol¬ 
dier who dropped cigarette ashes into a can of 
powder. The thought startled him. Here was 
something to do and he wondered how he could 
have sat down so limply and thought there was 
nothing to do but “bide his time.” His duty was 
to see Mr. Lessing and have a plain talk about 
the matter and he resolved to do so as soon as 
possible. 

A few moments later he received a bulky bus¬ 
iness looking letter. It proved to be from a Sun¬ 
day school superintendent, General Gates, who 
proposed to enlarge the Sunday school by intro¬ 
ducing a “Boys’ Brigade.” It was all pictured 
out in the most enticing shape. There were 
chubby boy soldiers, beautiful boy officers, gay 
uniforms, real guns, swords and military drills. 
When he had read the last word and looked at 
the last picture his spiritual depression gave way 
to the fire of righteous indignation. He tore the 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


letter to fragments, thrust it from him as 
though it had been a viper and cried aloud. 

“Thank God I can at least prevent this scoun¬ 
drel of militarism from entering any Sunday 
school or church of which I am the pastor! It’s mil¬ 
itarism in patriotic garb! It’s conscription in its 
most treacherous form! It’s Lucifer himself—Fa¬ 
ther of lies! of strategies! of wars, despoiler of 
children and the whole world!” 

He could say no more. He feared he had said 
too much or that he had inclined to blame the man 
more that the institution. He bowed his head on 
the desk and for fifteen minutes there was silence 
in his study. 

As soon as he could bring his exasperated mind 
under proper control he answered the letter of the 
General, giving his reasons for refusing his appeal 
with regard to the Boys’ Brigade and pointing out 
in kindly but emphatic language the evil results 
that always had followed and in the nature of the 
case were sure to follow from trusting children 
with the implements of death and destruction. It 
was useless he averred to try to teach boys obe¬ 
dience to the heavenly law by military drill. The 
drill amounted to nothing in the way of discipline. 
Guns and swords meant only one thing to a boy 
and that was to kill his enemy, which is a direct 
contraversion of the doctrines which the Christian 
Church was designed to teach. To say that the 
Boys’ Brigade is not intended to foster the mili- 

14 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


tary spirit is useless. It’s very name gives it 
away. Boys’ Brigade! Indeed! If it is a good and 
essential thing to have why should there not be a 
Girls’ Brigade. Girls need to be taught the great 
high lessons of obedience to Christ as well as 
the boys. By excluding the girls, the idea of 
caste is established—which is essentially military 
and non-Christian, for “there is neither male nor 
female in Christ Jesus.” We may talk of “Sol¬ 
diers of the Cross” but who ever heard of a Major 
or Brigadier-General of the Cross. The true 
church idea is to do away entirely with caste 
lines. If you would but bend your energies in 
this direction even so far as to place the boys and 
girls of the Sunday school on the same plane of 
righteous equality, I am sure you would never 
think of putting guns and swords into the hands 
of either. 

“No! no! my dear brother and co-worker, the 
brigade will not do. I beg of you to study 
Christ’s teachings closely and see if you cannot 
devise a better plan for the building up of the 
Sunday school. Such building has been a matter 
of great concern to me and is growing more and 
more so every year since I perceive that the bus¬ 
iness of militarism with its ever increasing army 
and armaments is forcing its way everywhere and 
threatening to dominate our religious and edu¬ 
cational institutions. 

“I take it that your heart is in the right place. 

15 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


That you really wish to benefit the youth of our 
country. That you wish to bring them under the 
right influences. To inspire them with the desire 
to reduce the sum of human agony and poverty. 
To save life instead of destroying it and making 
it hideous! Come then, my dear brother, come! 
The field is large and the laborers are few.” 

Dr. Phillips received no reply to his letter; but, 
the writing of it had emphasized his anxiety with 
regard to the Sunday school and gave him a 
double reason for calling on Mr. Lessing with¬ 
out delay. The question was whether the man 
who had been (to say at the least) so injudicious 
as to put into his son’s hands a dangerous, life- 
destroying instrument was fit to be trusted with 
the teaching of young and impressionable souls! 
And the answer was, surely not, unless the terri¬ 
ble accident w'hich had happened to his little 
daughter had smitten him with sudden conver¬ 
sion and made a new man of him; so when he 
called on Mr. Lessing his first attempt was to find 
out how he stood affected in this regard. 

Mr. Lessing was affected to tears and self-de- 
nunciations in great profusion as soon as the sub¬ 
ject of his little girl’s injury was broached. He 
blamed himself roundly for having bought his 
son a rifle and still more roundly for not having 
instructed and cautioned him in the use of it, but 
more than all he blamed himself for not explain¬ 
ing the mechanism of it to his daughter and ex- 

16 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 

acting a solemn promise from her to keep entire¬ 
ly out of the way of it. “Girls,” he averred 
“were naturally afraid of anything in the shape 
of guns and always dodged the wrong way when 
they happened to go off.” 

“Boys ought to be afraid of them also,” re¬ 
plied Dr. Phillips, “and the boy that is not nat¬ 
urally afraid of them should be taught to be so, 
although as a rule I believe that children are 
afraid of anything that is generally considered 
dangerous to play with. But afraid or not afraid 
they should never be trusted with death-dealing 
weapons of any kind. We have had proof upon 
proof of this on our Independence Day celebra¬ 
tions and this year the accidents have been ter¬ 
rible. They are striking nearer and nearer home. 
No knowing where they will strike next. Using 
explosives in celebrations is a horrible custom at 
best.” 

“Yes, Yes! It is dreadful,” groaned Mr. Les¬ 
sing. “It is hideous but it’s here, in this sinful 
world with all the rest of the dangerous and 
frightful things, and I don’t see how we are go¬ 
ing to get rid of them without upsetting the body 
politic and destroying the balance of good and 
evil both of which are used to pave our mortal 
way. Take the Fourth of July paraphernalia 
for an example if you will. Invention and man¬ 
ufacture have their arms around about it. Bus¬ 
iness and trade have their sharp eyes upon it—• 

17 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 

yes sharp and glittering as a serpent’s. Lord! 
Lord! save us, save us! We can do nothing.” 

Mr. Lessing closed his eyes and offered up a 
prayer, which was so full of questions to the 
Almighty and requests for light and guidance 
from the same source, that Dr. Phillips felt for 
the moment at least, spiritually nonplussed. In 
other words he did not know what to say next. 
Besides, it was evident that Mr. Lessing did not 
expect him to say anything, for he took out his 
watch and expressed surprise that it was so long 
past his office hours. 

“I will walk down with you,” said Dr. Phillips, 
thinking that this might give him the opportun¬ 
ity of expressing his mind more clearly. 

“Very well, Doctor, but I must kiss my little 
girlie good bye before I go.” 


18 


PART SECOND. 


W HILE Dr. Phillips was waiting he 
heard loud talking in the direction of 
Robbie’s room. 

“Zounds!” exclaimed a martial 
voice. “This is splendid! You have enough firearms 
here to furnish a whole brigade, and of all sizes 
too, as though they were bought on purpose to 
rig out a Sunday school army.” 

“I thought you’d be surprised General, and I 
assure you I should like no better fun than to 
have them all put to actual service,” replied a 
voice which Dr. Phillips recognized as Robbie’s. 

“How generous! and what a bonanza for the 
Brigade Boys! It isn’t always an easy matter 
to get the necessary guns—that is good ones and 
a boy that is a boy always hates a gun that he 
can’t shoot with although it’s the kind his mother 
generally wants him to have and insists on his 
having, especially if she is a widowed mother.” 

“They’re sure pop, every one of them. I’ve tried 
them enough to know,” laughed Robbie, “and 
papa is a splendid judge of a gun. He went 
soldiering once when he was a young man.” 

“And I went a soldiering twice when I was an 
old man and know a good gun when I see it,” 
laughed the General. 


19 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 

“So you are a real General,” said Robbie. “I 
am glad of that. You can tell us exactly what 
they do in real, true warfare. Papa says it’s 
very different from what it used to be. That a 
whole regiment can be mowed down now in less 
time than it used to take to kill one man and no 
parleying about it either. You see I want to 
know all the new kinks, for I’m going to be a 
real soldier as soon as I’m of age, and go to a 
real, true war.” 

“Certainly, and I can tell you for I’ve killed my 
pile straight up to the handle. I never gave any 
quarter to the enemy w r hen I was in the army any 
more than I give quarter to the devil and his 
imps in the Sunday school. It’s easier to kill an 
enemy after he surrenders. Yes, my brave lad, 
I can tell you all about it when the time comes, 
but all you will have to do now is to talk to the 
boys and get them all roused up and eager to en¬ 
list by the time I make my annual round.” 

“I can do it, General, I’ve got the stuff. When 
will you come?” 

“A week before Christmas, the Lord willing,” 
replied the General, “and remember—that I depend 
upon you—a boy of your stripe is often more 
to be depended on than a minister, I find.” 

Dr. Phillips was shocked beyond all expression. 
He 'had read of the brutal soldiers in the Philip¬ 
pines who killed their enemies although they threw 
down their arms and knelt for mercy; but he never 

20 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 

dreamed that a church worker could be possessed 
of such a spirit. For a moment he felt that 
heaven and earth were closing in upon him. Then 
he walked down street with Mr. Lessing in sil¬ 
ence, thinking only of what could be done to 
guard the children of his church from such vicious 
teachings. 

“Speaking of dangerous things,” said Mi. 
Lessing in his groaning way, “I saw a workman 
mounting to the top of our church tower the 
other day—swinging around on a rope like a 
spider on his web. A little inadvertency, or a 
slight dizziness would have sent him crashing to 
the ground. It made my head reel to look v at 
him. Truly and verily as we were saying be¬ 
fore, it’s a dreadful world and it’s frightful to 
think of all the danger-traps that are and have 
been and must be in it—that we can’t help if we 
should try.” , 

“I have thought about that terrible tower,” 
said Dr. Phillips, “and I would have had it taken 
down instead of sending a man up there if I could 
have had my way.” 

“There it is Doctor. You see we can’t have 
our way especially about things that belong to 
an organization, as unhappily almost everything 
does. The fact is we are immeshed, cruelly im- 
meshed and only the Lord God—the Captain of 
our salvation can lead us out of our dreadful en¬ 
tanglements—this vast wilderness of woe.” 

21 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 

After pronouncing the last words in a dolorous 
voice, Mr. Lessing entered his office and Dr. Phil¬ 
lips hastened home to talk the matter over with 
his wife. 

“You know I always thought Mr. Lessing was 
a hypocrite,” said Mrs. Phillips, “he is always 
breaking out into profuse prayer, but instead of 
thanking the Lord for benefits received, it’s ‘O 
Lord give, give,’—this and that and the other 
without end. I think if he wanted a hen-coop he 
would pray God to give it to him instead of go¬ 
ing to work with hammer and nails.” 

“O Annabelle! Annabelle!” exclaimed Dr. Phillips. 

“O Thomas! Thomas! I can’t help thinking 
and I couldn’t help laughing the last time I heard 
him pray in Sunday school. It reminded me of 
the little boy who had the habit of teasing his 
mother for everything and was told if he didn’t 
quit she wouldn’t give him anything. He went 
to church with her the next Sunday and after 
listening to a long prayer of the teasing order 
until he was terribly tired, he pulled her sleeve 
and whispered, ‘O mama! F’i wer Dod I wouldn’t 
div him a single fing.’ But that military mission¬ 
ary is the worst. What a mercy that you over¬ 
heard his scheme before he got us all mapped out, 
gunned, sworded and officered for war.” 

“Yes, if we can prevent him from carrying out 
his vicious plans.” 

“But we can and will. We are not hypocrites 

22 


* > < 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 

or idiots and the Good Lord will be on our side, 
I trust.” 

“There’s a mint of money against us though, 
besides the boys’ ingrained love of show and mili¬ 
tary display.” 

“As to the money,” said Mrs. Phillips flashing 
up, “I will spend every dollar of my little pin- 
money rather than give up to those military 
wretches; and I’m sure if we put our heads to¬ 
gether we can get up something more attractive 
than a ‘Boys’ Brigade’—something in which the 
girls as well as the boys will take part. What you 
wrote him is as true as Gospel. Even the name 
condemns it. The devil was sure to be in it when 
the girls were left out. I wonder who ever invented 
such a scheme?” 

Sunday school teacher in Glasgow, Scotland, 
so one of the pamphlets states. His idea was to 
get the street boys into the Sunday school in order 
to keep them out of mischief and make better boys 
of them. That was right, but he went at them in 
the wrong way. He appealed to the worst in them 
instead of the best. Doubtless he hoped to get at 
the best, but if he had possessed as much intelli¬ 
gence as Scotch shrewdness, he would have known 
that it was not only dangerous but wrong to ap¬ 
peal to a child’s lower nature in order to get hold 
of the higher.” 

“And so he took them from the mischief of the 
street and taught them the worst kind of mischief 

23 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


—war-mischief, and armed them with weapons 
of war,” said Mrs. Phillips, in her direct way. 

“Yes, dear, that’s about it, although the guns 
were made of wood, the swords of paper and the 
caps and belts of inexpensive material, still the 
military shape was there and the discipline was 
severely military and non-Christian from the very 
first. Now there is a full military equipment, with 
real guns and swords and the entire department 
appears to be controlled by retired army officers.” 

“Plow dreadful! and that’s the thing they are 
trying to introduce in this land of freedom and 
equality and in this town where there is no horde 
of homeless boys,” exclaimed Mrs. Phillips. “ How 
monstrous and how idiotic! We must go to work 
at once.” 

“You are right, dear,” said Dr. Phillips, 
straightening up, as though a great weight had 
rolled from his shoulders, “ and it’s such a blessed 
relief to feel that you are right, but where shall we 
begin ?” 

“I will begin by rousing the girls to rebel 
against unrighteous discrimination.” 

“And I will preach a practical sermon from the 
text, ‘There is neither male nor female in Christ 
Jesus,’ and then what?” 

“I will try to put the right kind of spirit into 
little Lucia Lessing. She thinks she must do nothing 
henceforth and forever but serve that reckless 
brother and selfish, hypocritical father of hers. Poor 

24 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


child! Poor little lamb! I’ll see that she isn’t sac¬ 
rificed on the Lessing altar,” sobbed Mrs. Phil¬ 
lips as she bent over the cradle of her sleeping 
babe and kissed it. 

“God speed you, dear, but it’s a delicate task. 
I confess it’s beyond me. I didn’t know what in 
the world to say to her. Of course I couldn’t say 
anything against her father or brother.” 

“And I will not either, but I’m going to have 
her on our side, even if I have to get up something 
more attractive than a ‘Boy’s Brigade,’ ” laughed 
Mrs. Phillips, crossing her resolute little hands 
on her husband’s knee. 

“But it must be useful as well as attractive. 
O I am sick unto death of this waste of youthful 
energy that is going on all over the world under 
the name of athletics.”^' 

“And it’s going to be useful as well as athlet¬ 
ically beautiful and sweetly humane, instead of 
decidedly vicious.” 

“But it must not be a game of any kind. Games 
are always wrong at the core. However harm¬ 
less they appear to be at first, as soon as they are 
grown and get into their true skin they are hide¬ 
ous. They mean war. They are invented to beat 
or kill the opponent or at least to make one of 
the players unhappy. They call them amuse¬ 
ments but they are only half-way amusements 
at the best.” 

“And we will not have any half-way amuse- 

25 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


ment. We will have a good, whole, humane and 
useful amusement, in which every boy and girl 
will be useful and happy in trying to make 
others useful and happy. I have thought of some¬ 
thing already.” 

“What is its name, dear love? I am perishing to 
know.” 

“You shall know my Thomas, as soon as you 
will promise not to be my doubting Thomas.” 

“I, who have never been your doubting Thomas, 
do hereby promise that I never will be, not through 
any virtue of my own but because I can’t help 
trusting you with a perfect—and” 

“Enough said, my trusy Thomas. The name 
is Little Christmas Givers. So far children have 
been taught to be selfish at Christmas-tide —to ex¬ 
pect to have Christmas gifts show r ered upon them. 
Now we will teach them to do a little of the 
showering themselves, to give their gifts w r hen 
they are needed the most, and to help with their 
little hands to lighten the big bundle of petty 
tasks which invariably fall to the poor widow r ’s lot. ” 

“Good! dearie, but what will they be armed 
with?” 

“Little wood-saws and hatchets w T ith bright, 
red handles, instead of guns and sw r ords, and gold¬ 
en carts to carry their gifts in. The emblems of 
peace instead of war. Reminders not only of the 
Father of his country but of mother’s kindling- 
wood.” 


26 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


Her husband laughed cheerily. His spiritual 
depression was all gone. She continued. 

“And I warn my Thomas not to dare to doubt 
that they will be more pleased with the saws and 
hatchets and carts and the good they will do 
■with them, than they would be with guns and 
swords that they would not be let to do anything 
witn. 

“I don’t doubt it, dear, I have always noticed 
that boys want to put the instruments given them 
to their legitimate uses and it doesn’t take th^m 
long to learn that guns and swords were made 
to kill with and they are crazy to try them on 
to some kind of living creature. Thank God our 
boys will not have any to try on! But what will 
the girls have? You see I must look out for the 
girls.” 

“Baskets! pretty baskets! filled with all sorts 
of useful and beautiful things, which you will 
help me conjure up. And Lucia Lessing will help 
me too, I know she will, as soon as she has re¬ 
covered from her terrible hurt.” 

“Yes, dearie, and the boy with the torn lip and 
the one with the amputated arm, and we will put 
our arms right around them and make them forget 
their terrible disfigurement.” 

They did it and the work of organizing a “Lit¬ 
tle Christmas Givers ' 9 band went on so rapidly 
that by the time Robbie Lessing, remembering his 
promise to General Gates, went among them to 

27 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


get recruits for the Boy’s Brigade, he could not 
get a solitary recruit. And although he invited 
them to his arsenal and offered to fit them with 
guns suitable to their size they refused to be fitted, 
and it was no wonder for they had already been 
fitted with beautiful axes and saws, which they 
were being taught to make dextrous use of, every 
Saturday at Dr. Phillips’ woodhouse. The result 
was dainty bundles of kindlings, which were cut 
so evenly, bound up so neatly and ornamented so 
tastefully with evergreen sprigs that they looked 
“prettier than drums,” said Mrs. Phillips. But 
they were not quite so pretty as the baskets which 
were being made by the only Indian woman of 
the town. She brought all she had made during 
the week to the parsonage on Saturdays and was 
very happy to see the girls so pleased with them; 
for the girls were there as well as the boys, mak¬ 
ing all sorts of useful things to put into the 
Christmas baskets. Lucia Lessing was there also, 
with a look of suffering on her hurt face, but she 
was happy in making others happy. When she 
insisted on paying for the baskets out of her own 
purse and made the poor Indian woman take 
three times as much as she asked, she heard a cry 
of joy louder than she had ever heard before from 
human lips. 

“We all laughed and cried together and I be¬ 
lieve Lucia was happier than she had ever been 
before in her life, ” said Mrs. Phillips to her husband. 

28 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


As soon as Robbie Lessing was convinced that 
his cause was lost, he concluded to join the pop¬ 
ular side. Thus it happened that when the Gen¬ 
eral of the Grand Consolidated Sunday school 
system stopped off to organize a Boy’s Brigade 
in Dr. Phillips’ church, he was told that there 
was no call there for anything of that nature in 
language so decisive that he concluded he might 
as well pass on to fields “more fertile in fiends and 
fools,” laughed Mrs. Phillips. 

“Bless you, dear, for your brave help,” said Dr. 
Phillips. “We got rid of the monster at last, 
but we must be on the watch tower. The scoundrel 
of militarism is not dead yet. He will be sure to 
reappear in another and still another and more 
alluring shape and seek by every fiendish device 
to get within the folds of the church. I hear 
that the militarists of England are already schem¬ 
ing to get up something to take the place of the 
Boy’s Brigade which fell into bad repute there 
before it crossed over to this country. We got 
the tail end of the serpent here.” 

“Yes and the scoundrel of militarism full length 
but we know him now and he will never get into 
our fold, or get his poison claws onto any of our 
little ones. No! not if we have to surround them 
with Life-saving Brigades, flank them with Peace 
Scouts, sit on the watch tower every hour or go 
on a ten day fast, as Brother Daniel does when he 
is in grand earnest.” 


29 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


“Persistence wins and so we must have plenty 
of girls among our Brigades and Scouts. Girls 
are the women of the future and women excel men 
in this quality. Let them once see the right and go 
for it and it is sure to come. You remember that 
Ruskin said,\‘whenever women make up their 
minds to put a stop to war, they will do it’.” , 

“Yes, Thomas, and I remember the very time 
w T hen you told me of his wise words. It was the 
day after we were married and I remember that 
you added that you had faith to believe that war 
had received its death blow and love was coming, 
coming quickly to reign supreme. O my dear hus¬ 
band! bless you for those inspiring words,” she 
cried, throwing her arms around his neck in an 
access of love and thankfulness. “If all Ameri¬ 
can wives and mothers had such a beacon light, 
they would not come so slow!” 

“But they are coming, thank God!” said Dr. 
Phillips reverently—“coming by the thousands! 
Brave little mothers like yourself and when 
they arrive, militarism will have to go. Talk 
of the Spartan mothers! They are a back 
number, a dim light compared to the Ameri¬ 
can mothers who are throwing war precedence, man¬ 
killing, boy-killing and time killing to the winds 
and are insisting more and more, that their sons 
shall learn to bear cheerfully and heroically the 
heavy burdens of home life—do their rightful 
share of the hard, hand-soiling work which has to 

30 


t 


The Scoundrel of Militarism 


be done in every household and community. Think 
of the blessed change which would come over ev¬ 
ery home, town and city, yes, and the world, if the 
young energies which are now wasted in wild 
sports, war-like employments and dangerous and de¬ 
structive pastimes, could be turned by the humane 
mother-hand to the making of home and society 
into places of comfort, usefulness and beauty! 
Fancy every home a place of sacred joy! Every 
neighborhood a brilliant social centre for the in¬ 
terchange of thought and sentiment! What an 
improvement on the old Spartan way! What a 
shocking spectacle it would be in these days to see 
mothers arming their sons and spurring them on 
to go and kill other mothers’ sons! The inspiration 
now is to hold them back from all kinds of wars 
or glorification of wars, such as our Independence 
Day insanity has become. Once do away with 
these insanities and make life and property de¬ 
cently secure and other insanities such as insane 
eating, drinking, smoking and dressing would 
follow in their wake and ease the world of the 
whirlwind of insanity with which it is threater 0 ' 1 


to-day.” 


[The End.] 



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